


The Red Wolf and Her Rose

by Geek_and_Nina



Series: Sansaery [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Margaery Tyrell, Margaery isn't dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geek_and_Nina/pseuds/Geek_and_Nina
Summary: Arya returns from her adventures with gifts, one in the form of a lost love Sansa, the Queen in the North, had long thought dead.





	The Red Wolf and Her Rose

Sansa Stark’s throne was not made of iron. It was wood, hewn from the same ironwood tree from north of the wall her brother’s wheeled chair was made of. She liked to think they connected the two siblings in some way. The same tree had donated branches to form Arya’s desk. Jon had crafted himself a walking stick as well.

There was something comfortable about old, softened wood that had seen more than Sansa ever would. The Lords of the North had all gathered at Winterfell for the five-year meeting of the bannermen. For… not the first time and not the tenth time since becoming queen, Sansa missed the sight of Lyanna Mormont amongst those faces. She missed her siblings every day but had learned long ago how to live without them. Even amongst her people, safely in power in her ancestral home, Sansa felt utterly alone.

“Your Highness, my Queen. I apologize for the interruption profusely, from the bottom of my heart. Your sister has just arrived, a visitor in tow. Shall I show them in?” asked a younger man, dressed in the Winterfell livery; having plainly run to bring his queen this news. She offered him a cool half-smile and nodded for him to stand back up to his feet.

“This is wonderful news. Yes, of course, show Arya and any companions into the Hall here. It is a good thing that all of these greats lords and ladies have already gathered and are here to greet them. I hadn’t expected Arya back until even the next harvest… if she were to come back at all.” Sansa’s voice carried effortlessly, though it was plain she was speaking only to the page in front of her. “Someone send to the kitchens and have them prepare a feast in her honor. Arya Stark has returned!”

At the end of Sansa’s final sentence, the Bannermen of House Stark rose up in a mighty cheer, tankards banging on tables, the butts of spears against the floor, and hilts clashed against shields until Sansa lifted a hand to call them to a halt. She smiled and lifted her crown from the arm of her throne up to its’ place on her head. Sansa hadn’t smiled earnestly in a long while. It was nice to be reminded she still could.

The large double doors leading into the Grand Hall burst open as two members of the Winterfell’s Guard and held them open for Arya. Her hair had grown several inches since the last time she’d seen her and there was a slightly more relaxed set to her shoulders. The air of easy self-assurance still surrounded her, but a light had entered her eyes that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Sansa was happy to see it. She had been hoping for this result when she sent her sister on this mission.

Sansa very much wanted to jump from her throne and run to Arya but managed to hold herself together. Since becoming queen, it felt as though the protocols of decorum had taken over almost every moment of her life. Sansa didn’t mind often… except for in these situations.

Arya walked up before the throne in measured steps, pairs of men bearing two heavy wooden chests behind her. Behind them, a young woman in a vibrant red cloak entered the hall as well. When Arya knelt before the wooden throne of the North, she drew Sansa’s attention once more. “Rise, Arya Stark. You are always welcome in this Hall, in my home, and at my side.” There was more emotion in her voice than she usual. Every other member of Arya’s party was still kneeling and staring down at the floor, but Sansa ignored them all and stood to go to her sister.

“Your Highness, I have brought gifts…” Arya was cut off by her sister’s tight hug. “I always forget how _tall_ you are. The crown doesn’t help much.”

“That’s okay, I always forget how small you are. Come and take a seat at my side. Is there anything I can have brought for you? You must be exhausted.” Sansa led Arya up the short flight of stairs. As opposed to the chair sat beside the throne the young adventurer took a seat, perching on the arm of the throne.

Sansa very obviously rolled her eyes at the breach of conduct but decided to ignore it. This was very in character for the Arya she remembered from before their father’s death. “Everyone else may rise as well. Tell me what it is you have brought.” Sansa gestured to the chests in front of them.

“The first is full of the gold we discovered in the land to the west. The second is full of pelts hunted and skinned from the plentiful hunts we had during our stay there. The land is rich, beautiful, and quite temperate for the time we were there. The populace was kind and friendly. I would say more so than Westeros, the North, or Braavos.” Arya spoke plainly, though there was a twinge of memory and nostalgia in her voice.

As Arya announced the chests, the members of her crew brought them to the base of the stairs; opening them before her, bowing, and then backing away without meeting her eyes.

“These are all amazing and beautiful, dear sister. You have thoroughly impressed me, and I am glad that your trip has been enjoyable. Travel seems to have set well with you.” Sansa’s eyes widened at the amount of treasure brought before her, almost equally shocked by how unfazed Arya seemed to be. Despite this, Sansa’s eyes were continuously drawn to the figure in the red cloak.

She very much wanted to ask but didn’t want to seem desperate or out of order in front of the lords or her sister.

“However, these are not the greatest gift I have brought for you, dear sister. On my travels, I encountered many other ships of travelers, adventurers, friends, and enemies. Upon one such vessel, I found a young woman trapped in the hold; her health ailing after having been kept in a cage half-submerged in water for the gods know how long. My crew and I brought her on board and nursed her back to health. We though a reunion might be in order.” Arya’s voice grew more and more pensive as she spoke. The last sentence was murmured so only Sansa could hear.

The woman in the cloak stepped forward and from her gait, the Queen in the North could tell that she still wasn’t completely healthy. She looked up into Sansa’s crystal clear blue eyes and pulled the hood down from her head.

“May I present; Margaery Tyrell, my Queen.” Arya spoke loudly, announcing her to the lords, ladies, and everyone else in the room.

Sansa felt all of the breath leave her body as Margaery revealed herself to the queen in the North. Arya placed a firm hand on her sister’s shoulder in an attempt to steady her. Margaery’s lips quirked up in a soft hesitant smile as Sansa continued to silently stare down at her for a long moment as the court murmured quietly around them. When air found its way into Sansa’s lungs again they were deep shuddering breaths. Her eyes filled with tears for the first time in a very long time.

“Everyone but Lady Margaery and my sister… leave us. You are dismissed until the feast tonight. Any further concerns may be brought up with me then.” Sansa ordered, pointing to the doors and barely suppressing the quaver in her voice.

“Your Highness, please allow at least two guards to remain at your side. I mean no disrespect and I do not mean to cast suspicion upon anyone, but to all of the Council and the Court, your safety is considered my highest of priorities.” An advisor spoke quietly as everyone began to file out. Sansa found herself wracking her mind in an attempt to remember his name.

“Did you not hear me say that my younger sister, Arya Stark: the Hero of Winterfell and Slayer of the Night King, would remain at my side? If there are any amongst the Queensguard, the Winterfell guard, or even amongst the common folk of the entire North you think could protect me better… I invite you to try them against her.” Sansa spoke quickly and somewhat harshly. “Do not ever think to question something I have commanded again.”

Arya’s eyes widened, seemingly impressed by Sansa’s handling of the situation. Her sister could be truly savage and those were Arya’s favorite moments with Sansa. In the years they had been separated, Sansa had grown a backbone. She had also really impressed Lady Margaery Tyrell. Everything that the former Queen had told Arya both shocked and infuriated her on Sansa’s behalf. What she learned filled in a lot of gaps in the story she had gotten out of her elder sibling.

Everyone fled from the room after Sansa’s scolding; leaving Sansa, Arya, and Margaery alone in the great hall. Margaery was kneeling at the base of the stairs, eyes downcast from Sansa’s gaze once more. She stared down at the stone floor, unmoving, and trembling with pent up anxiety. Sansa took a few more careful and deep breaths before she spoke again.

“Rise, Lady Margaery, and tell me your story. I was under the impression you had died in the blast at the explosion of the Temple of Baelor. I mourned you. You were the last tears I cried before I decided to give up on allowing myself those emotions… I had thought forever.” Sansa beckoned the other girl to stand and come forward, taking Margaery’s hands in her own… staring deeply into her eyes.

A tear escaped from the corner of Margaery’s eyes as she realized Sansa wasn’t angry and wouldn’t reject her. She still trembled, though now with relief. Arya pulled a chair over for Margaery and put a tankard of ale into her hand.

“Just tell her everything you told me. Take all the time you need.” Arya said gently, resuming her perch on the arm of Sansa’s throne. “If you get tired we will take a break. Whatever you need.”

The three women sat there for over a full hour as Margaery haltingly told the story of her escape. Sansa sat quietly and listened to every word, offering encouragement and sympathy. Arya was so still and quiet that Sansa would have forgotten she was there had she not been sitting so closely. Having her little sister near was comfort the elder Stark girl had forgotten she needed. They hadn’t always been very close, but there was a shared pain between them now; bonding them closer than any blood ties ever could have.

“I am so sorry that I was not able to make my way back to your side more quickly. Believe me when I say that all I ever thought about was getting back to you.” Margaery said in a near desperate tone.

“She speaks the truth. Coming back to you was all I heard out of her even before she knew of my origins. The look on her face when she realized I was in truth your sister was quite entertaining.” Arya smirked and shrugged. “I must say that for the very first time, Sansa, I approve of your taste.”

“I have missed you as well, you know.” Sansa said to this woman she had loved for a long time and thought she'd lost forever. Sansa stood and revealed the engraving set into the spine of the throne.

Where Sansa’s shoulders would cover perfectly, a red wolf, crowned with a ring of roses had been very carefully carved into the wood; staring brazenly out at whatever would dare to challenge her. She ran her index finger over the rose crown lovingly. Something about the way Sansa did this gave the other two women the impression she had done this many times before. She smiled softly down at the piece of art there before turning back to Margaery. Sansa reached forward, helping Margaery to her feet and pulling her into a tight hug.

“My rose, you were never far from me, I promise you.” Sansa spoke quietly into the long brown hair as she held Margaery close. Slowly, Margaery's arms wound around Sansa’s waist in turn, burying her face into the fur cloak covering Sansa’s shoulders. For a long time, she had genuinely believed she would never feel like this again.

When the pair parted, Arya, sitting patiently, waiting and allowing the moment to pass with a gentle smile on her face. She was happier than she had expected to be home. Sansa offered Margaery her arm and lead her up one of the many staircases of Winterfell. “Arya you may wait here for a moment. I will be back shortly.” she called back over her shoulder. Sansa knew that she would follow anyways if she wanted and she knew there was no way to prevent or know she was following.

As they walked, Sansa noticed how Margaery still trembled like a leaf, she unclasped her heavy cloak and draped it across Margaery’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that, my lovely girl. I will be just fine.” The former lady of Highgarden protested. She smiled softly and pulled the material more closely around her despite her words.

“No, I do. For as long as you are within these walls and under my protection, I will do everything in my power to prevent your suffering. I am queen now, Margaery. Most things are within my power.” Sansa opened a sturdy oak door to an opulent royal chamber.

“Your situation has certainly changed since I was forced to run, but … you are still my wolf, the red wolf I knew and loved?” Margaery seemed to barely register the chambers they were in as she looked up into Sansa’s face.

“More than my situation has changed, but I believe the parts of myself that formulate my core remain. The rest… we will figure out.” Sansa backed away, almost sadly to sit on the edge of her bed and stare down at her boots. She took the crown from her head once more and set it down on the furs. She shook herself out of the creeping melancholy and stood once more.

“Come now. You can borrow one of my nightgowns and I will send a maester up to you shortly. I know you are exhausted, and I don’t want you to sit through a council meeting. Get some rest. I will be back as soon as possible, I promise.” Sansa began to mill about the room, grateful that none of her ladies in waiting had thought to check in on her. She brought Margaery the nightgown and pulled back the furs that covered the bed.

Margaery slid back into the bed after gratefully slipping on the gown, pulled the furs back up with Sansa’s assistance, and finally allowed herself to relax. As she fell asleep, the last thing she remembered before sleep took her, was the feeling of Sansa’s lips against her forehead.

It pained the Queen in the North to leave Margaery behind, but there was a lot she needed to accomplish. As she went about the remainder of her day, Sansa thought of Margaery often. Every now and again, as though materializing from thin air, Arya would interrupt whatever Sansa was doing uncaringly, and whisper an update on Margaery to her. If it hadn’t been for her younger sisters’ thoughtfulness she wasn’t sure she would have made it through her day. She constantly wondered how long it would be until she could go back up to her chambers to be reunited again.

“Margaery has now eaten a bit and has gone back to sleep for a while... hopefully. Her color is coming back nicely. I am going to go back up and sit in the room with her, just in case.” Arya whispered from behind Sansa’s seat in the small council. No one had seen her enter and Sansa knew that no one would see her leave either.

“Thank you, I will try as hard as possible to make it up there soon. No guarantees, but I will do what I can to be there quickly.” Sansa spoke out of the corner of her mouth. As she finished her sentence, Arya seemed to vanish once more. Sansa shook her head in amusement and smiled quietly to herself.

It was only a couple of hours before Sansa finally managed to demand a break for herself. She decided to deal with any other pressing matters during the feast later that evening. Sansa hurried up to her chambers once more and rushed into them as quietly as she possibly could. Margaery was awake and just risen from a deep slumber. She was stretching, yawning, and sitting up taller in the bed.

“How are you feeling? Did you get some good rest? Did your food sit well?” Sansa asked, sitting next to Margaery on the bed once more. She saw the color returning to her cheeks and a bit more of that spark of liveliness in her eyes.

Margaery smiled softly back at Sansa and her eyes filled with affection at how many questions Sansa immediately hurled her way. The way she spoke sent her right back to their time together in King’s Landing. It reminded her of the many times when they would wander the Red Keep’s gardens. Margaery had been concerned that the young woman she had known back then was destroyed by her experiences during their time apart. She was very comforted by the sense of recognition she felt at that moment.

“Much better. The maester said I might improve completely within a couple of weeks. Eating, sleeping, and fresh air are his orders. Your company seems to help me the most though.” Margaery gave Sansa a wry smile. “It was very nice to see my red wolf baring her teeth; not a puppy any longer.”

“No… I certainly am not. How much of my journey from King’s Landing and back home do you know? I assume that Arya has told you of at least the important parts. You didn’t seem too shocked by my new seat of power.” Sansa asked hesitantly.

“News… news got around, even across the Seas and the Wastes. From there I was able to draw a lot of the most likely conclusions… though for a while I thought you were dead as well. Believe me when I tell you I understand what you went through.” Margaery turned a bit sad once more. She had heard the rumors surrounding Bolton’s Bastard for years and her grandmother had quickly quashed any notions her father might have once had of arranging a marriage between the two of them. When Margaery had heard Sansa had been forced to marry him, Margaery had been inconsolable for weeks.

“We have both grown, my rose. You have bloomed and I have grown into a wolf that is worthy of the teeth I was born with. The Red Wolf, Queen in the North, and her Rose; if you would agree to be my consort.” Sansa pulled a ring from her index finger and offered it to Margaery. She felt more vulnerable than she had allowed herself to be in ages.

Margaery picked the ring from her hand and turned it over to reveal a sterling; dark silver ring set with one brilliant deep blue sapphire and one chocolate diamond for the eyes of a direwolf’s head. “I’ll find you something better or have one made, later on. Maybe in rose gold, a rose crowned wolf-like on my throne… would be better, or a rose gold wreath of roses and wolfsbane.” Sansa began to ramble when Margaery didn’t immediately answer.

“If you feel the need to get me a new one, go ahead, but for now this will do and it will do quite beautifully. I love you, my red wolf. I always have and I always will.” Margaery almost choked on the words as she slid the silver piece of jewelry onto the ring finger of her left hand.

Margaery slid one hand around the back of Sansa’s neck and pulled her in, kissing her for the first time in the many years they had loved one another.


End file.
